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calm seas, restless lungs

breathe it in
the mournful breath is out there

skin is numb

the words are too

holding still
hidden under the tongue

holding
hidden

one more dies before he gets there
(what did the letter say...?)

holding
hidden

what did it say...?
The first glance

Unsteady, unsure

One beautiful smile

One thoughtful flutter

Godspeed you butterfly!

She comes to my shoulder

And pins a rose on me

She leaves a note

She lifts the net

But wants no words to her song

She is from November

And I am from snow

We stand together

And everything is new
To think about getting old?
Ay that is the question.
Tomorrow rapes the day
of sentiment, the curling
onion skin that never

unrolls.

Any mind cannot comprehend
old age.  The loose tooth,
of retirement falls out.

Hope falls from yesterday
when,  albeit time allows,
the young scalawag cross off

future’s possibilities as the
insensible droppings of
the cat who remain in the
corner.  The shedding of

youth’s romances.

Old age ponders through
rheumy tears the last
kisses , the shoulders
on which shawls

Droop


Caroline Shank
10.8.2024
 Oct 2024 Evan Stephens
Ciel Noir
last night I had a dream

there was a trilobite
in the green grass

I saw myself
from atop a cliff

running through the forest
in a velvet dress

the me that was
up on the cliff

had an old fashioned camera
in my hand

I tried to take a picture
of myself

but the me in the forest
was just too fast
They tell us we won't make it
We've wasted too much time
Was so much love between us
There's only walls to climb

You call me your babe
Call phone
Parents just call me dumb
They won't ever listen
A stranger I've become

I've heard it a million times
Each warning in the book
Analyzed situation for hours
You won't take a second look

I don't blame friends for being concerned
If it was me I'd do the identical thing
They should know I need belief in me
Not a phone I just let ring

The more I am smothered by my mom
More I want to defy
Given them answers for my reasons
They continue asking
"Why?"

Now I don't bother
Just tune their voices out
What is the point in talking?
All we do is shout

They're trying to protect skin
Heart from being broken
What they aren't seeing is in doing so
Lose me with each cruel word spoken

And I pull further from your reach
Don't know how to make you realize
I seem to be getting nowhere like this
Open up with honesty
Simply say my words are lies

"Be patient"
Beg you silently
Need time to get my life on track
True independence discovered through own decisions
Once free I'll be able to fully love you back
Written 12-16-18
Let's take a bus!
Visiting universities with my son
Remembering / trying to forget
Listening to paper-thin academics
Peter Pan never-grow-old boys
Who outstayed big school
Not like all work no play dad
He's back where he once
Puked-up on the steps of libraries
He lived with hardback books
Cramped in, just one gas ring
Not now, all digital innit, mister
My old lecturers must be very old
Spewing memoirs or just dead
We go to the City Art Gallery
To find out where life pauses
And rest awhile together
 Oct 2024 Evan Stephens
Jill
Mimosa pudica retreat
Humid glasshouse, rainy day
Pane-separated from the world
Exhaling foggy vagueness
Colours run wet
World through window walls,
a distorted Monet reproduction
Morphing, mixing, mushy
Each canvas exists for a sliding second
Glass and breath
Collaborating through condensation
Our fuzzy-haze masterwork

Panoramic gossamer lens
Magically softens
spiky, scratchy, sharp, crispness
into a smudgy simulacrum
A kind deceit
Frowns, scowls, growls,
and bared-toothy rage,
all smeared
Gently redacted
Calm, dreamy, pillowscape broadcast
Impressionist buffer
In muted pastels

Reality in artful disguise
Remoulded for ease of consumption
Sugary spoonful of subterfuge
Sifting, sorting, selective
Incomplete and fragmentary
Blur-clouded brain-break
Intermittent extra distance
Breath-focused,
soupy-warm,
momentary masterpiece
Just for me
Until my leaves unfurl
©2024

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (gossamer) date 4th October 2024. Very light or delicate.

Mimosa pudica is a small shrub, often referred to as the Sensitive Plant, the Shameful Plant, or the Touch-me-not Plant. The leaves curl up when touched.
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